


H.T.

by ifreet



Category: Psych, due South
Genre: Comment Fic, Gen, music ficlets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-06
Updated: 2008-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-14 22:28:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifreet/pseuds/ifreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kanzenhanzai asked for Shawn to meet Fraser and Ray, and shuffle set the meeting to Trigun's opening theme, H.T.</p><p>In the interests of disclosure, on this one, I broke the rules and hit repeat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	H.T.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kanzenhanzai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanzenhanzai/gifts).



> FRTDNEATJ is a handy due South-specific acronym meaning "for reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture." And it totally makes sense to add a note to explain it here instead of spelling it out there.

FRTDNEATJ, Shawn was in handcuffs, sitting on a very uncomfortable chair, in a very badly painted police station, across from a detective with great hair and a bad attitude.

"And how would you explain how you ended up in the middle of our investigation, then?"

Deja vu all over again, because how likely was it that the Chicago PD would be more willing to believe in his freakish observational skills than Santa Barbara's police had been? He suppressed a sigh.

"I'm a professional psychic with the Santa Barbara police department."

"Okay, that's it." Detective Vecchio stood abruptly and hauled Shawn out of his seat. "I don't have time for this-- you're going in the tank."

There were a few things Shawn was sure of in this life. One of them being that he never wanted to spend the night in jail ever again. "No, really! You can call them. Chief Vick will tell you--oof." The pair had knocked into a immovable object-- no, person. He craned his neck around. Huh. Didn't see that uniform everyday. Or ever, in the US.

"It couldn't hurt to call, Ray," said the immovable mountie. And that apparently was that. Shawn was unceremoniously dropped back in the chair. Detective Vecchio called information, even though Shawn had given him the number from memory.

...

"Detective Vecchio, Chicago PD. I've got a Shawn Spencer here--"

"Oh, God, what has he done now?" Of _course_ the Chief was out, and of course it _had_ to be Lassie who took the call. Shawn valiantly did not groan and bang his head on the desk.

The Chicago cop smirked at him.

But Lassie continued, not waiting for -- probably not wanting -- an answer. "He's a _civilian consultant_ , not the 'head psychic' or 'official head psychic' or whatever title he's claiming to have today, and we are NOT responsible for him or his actions in any way." And then, reluctantly, "But his information is probably good."

Shawn smirked back.


End file.
